One-Word Prompts
by Cutxandxrun
Summary: A collection of teasers/prompt things. First attempt at Hetalia so I am sorry if some of the characters are OOC.
1. Chapter 1

**...I have never done this before so...yeah... orz (please be nice?). This was supposed to be a collection of story ideas, but it got out of hand so although some might turn into stories later on, most will be stand alone excerpts. There will probably be ~20 more one word prompts. If one of the the excerpts sounds interesting to you, feel free to use it in your own story, credit would be appreciated.**

**And one of the prompts/teasers/excerpt things has dark implications. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

**Hockey**

It's obvious America loves baseball, it's not called the national American pastime for nothing, but there's nothing that spikes his adrenaline more than playing a round of hockey with Canada. Nobody's quite sure what America finds fun in the batcrap insane opponent his twin turns into but the fact that America accepts every single challenge Canada offers right away is proof enough that he enjoys the "I'm-going-to-kill-you" aura that permeates the rink during a game. They can spend hours ripping up the ice rink in a battle for supremacy. America's apparently insane like of hockey games with his brother pays off though; for one, no nation can scare him on the ice rink because really, none of them even come close to the monster Canada is. When the brothers get to the final rounds, both get up, smirk and proceed to destroy the other teams in favor of gaining the right to face off against each other. Once that's done, both simply check off another hockey game on the list of games they've played against each other. Nobody ever denied the fact that they're weird.

**Fire**

It is the year of 1814 and the combined Canadian and British troops have just torched DC. Canada is leaving the city when he feels his chest heat up uncomfortably. He can't figure out why it's doing that; this isn't his city and although he does feel the faint tinges of his twin brother's pain, the heat is not something he expected. Then his heart lurches. America can't still be inside the White House can he? Pushing some confused comrades aside, Canada focused on bringing the link between him and his brother to the forefront, hoping that America would be too distracted to block him. He can't breathe. There's fire licking at his arms and unconsciously, Canada comes to the conclusion that America had given into the smoke and slumped against a wall. He acts without thinking, the next thing he knows, Canada has left the evacuating troops and headed back into the firestorm."Don't you dare die, stupid. I still have some things to chew you out about."

**Grace**

America is a lot of things but grace is not a quality that usually comes to England's mind…or to most of the population anyway. If you asked him on the spot, the first characteristics England can think of are that America's loud, exuberant, clumsy, ditzy, arrogant, blah blah blah but among that list, graceful doesn't appear very often. Except in sports. Because England can't find any other way to describe the lines of lithe muscle America becomes when actually focused and moving. It reminds him of a panther sometimes the raw power evident in the liquid motions as America lunges for a ball or slices through the water during an outing.

**Scarf**

It's freezing. Of all places, if America hated the cold so much, why did he have a state like Minnesota? England is shivering so hard, he can feel himself shaking. And he thought New York got cold. This was cold on a whole different level. This was cold by...by...erm...that guy who looked a lot like America's standards. Well, ahem England was freezing and he really didn't want to call a cab and let more cold air in. Besides, his hotel really wasn't that far off and he is not going to let the bloody American tease him of being old. But it is really really cold. He is debating whether or not he should just swallow his pride and call a cab when something soft lands on his shoulders and sunlight glint off a pair of glasses. America wraps his jacket around England and checks his ears and fingers for frostbite before hauling the Brit off at a breakneck pace to the hotel complaining under his breath about the frigid temperature and England's frigid fingers. "Idiot" England mutters fondly as America drags him into the warm hotel.

**Knowledge**

"Forwards." America corrects absentmindedly during China's presentation on the rising statistics of suicide in his country.

The Asian nation blinks at him, confused "Excuse me, aru?"

"Yeah, forwards," America reaches out and tilts China's hand forward, "that pushes more up toward the surface."

"And you know this how?" Germany interjects a few seats down. America blinks, seeming to come out of his thoughts and notices the tense atmosphere (for once) coming from his colleagues. He shrugs, feeling Canada nudge his leg with a foot; America turns to look at his brother. There's a brief, unspoken conversation between them before both North Americans turn away, leaving the question unanswered.

**Atmosphere**

"Mon dieu! Read the atmosphere for once Amerique! I do not understand how you've managed to-"

"Dude, I've read the atmosphere and I know about it. The word atmosphere was created in the 17th century from the Greek word ἀτμός meaning 'vapor' and σφαῖρα meaning 'sphere'. It is defined as a layer of gases surrounding a material body of sufficient mass that is held in place by the gravity of the body. An atmosphere is more likely to be retained if the gravity is high and the atmosphere's temperature is low. Earth's atmosphere..." As a flabbergasted France listened to America's intelligent but completely irrelevant rant about the atmosphere, Canada face palmed,_ Maple! The idiot,_ and England sighed in defeat, "The bloody git's gotten us this time."

"So there, I have read the atmosphere! But I still don't understand what that has to do with the essential tools of a good diplomat!" America couldn't understand why everyone's (well, excluding Italy) head hit the meeting desk at the same time.

**Changed**

America had been missing from several meetings now and most of the other nations were rather irritated at the absence. "He should take more responsibility, the twat."

"Si, Los Estados Unidos es una nación muy perezosa, no?"

"Canada, ma chère, will you please drag dear Amerique here? Preferably by his ear, s'il vous plait." The poor (mostly) invisible country sighed, others only noticed him when they needed him to get America to do something. Unfortunately, this time even Canada couldn't find his twin; America seemed to have gone to great lengths to conceal himself both physically and mentally. So, the next meeting, located in Chicago, commenced without America again. Lunch break came and went, the first thing Canada noticed when he opened the door to the meeting room was a trail of red liquid. The second thing was a dead man. The third had his heart jumping in his throat. America. Black clothing. Smoking gun. Blue eyes met lavender, "You didn't see anything." his brother hissed coldly and disappeared.

**Inherited**

Neither brother had planned for this to happen but since the meeting was in Montreal and some of the American states were visiting, Canada supposed it couldn't have been avoided. They're in the middle of the meeting when the door flies open revealing two furious teenages and two other amused ones. "Dad!" America's and Canada's heads whip toward the sound of the British voices, "tell the bloody frog spawn to stop insulting my cooking!"

"But _mes chatons_," one amused boy cooed, "even papa agrees that your cooking is dangerous."

"_Oui_. Papa said it was like petrified couch stuffing." the other agreed, twirling a magnolia around his fingers. They were attacked instantly by the other two, "Die, Quebec!" "Go and burn, Louisiana!". America groaned. Canada sighed. The rest of the world stared at the scene unfolding before their eyes. The meeting was saved by the arrival of a fifth mystery teen.

"_SHUT UP!_ Mein Gott, you are not awesome at all." The teens are kicked out and the door slams behind the last one. Silence immediately settles again.

"Thank goodness Meghan has German blood." America mutters.

**Teacher**

England is a pretty good horseman, but he is more used to dealing with the more cultured animals of European descent. Not the balls of raw power and energy that America seems to enjoy riding, so when the American invites him over in order to teach him the Western style of horse riding England is more than just a little apprehensive. "Iggy," America sighs, "Get on, Joker is the sweetest thing. She won't hurtcha." England scowls at the American but swings his leg over and mounts the giant beast. "Grab the reins, no grab them with just one hand; the other one goes on the saddle horn. Move the reins left to turn left and right to turn right." America catches the look shot at him, "You won't fall; the hero will catch you if you do." He grabs the lead rope and unhooks it from the bridle, "The rest of the commands are pretty much the same." England circles around a couple of times on Joker before America rolls his eyes walks up to them, takes the reins and swings up behind England before kicking the horse into a faster pace. England feels the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile; he'll get to like Western riding if this happens all the time.

**Irony**

Being the world superpower and its hero is hard. Besides the fact that everyone scrutinizes him constantly, it is ridiculously lonely being at the top. England _helps _but he doesn't actually _get _America's circumstances, times change after all and the era from British Empire to now is drastically different. Unfortunately, the only person that would understand exactly what America goes through is Russia and _that _is a fact that is ridiculously hard to swallow. They might be on better terms, but it's not like they're the _best_ of_ friends_. Russia had been lonely and feared since the day he came into being, the guy's pretty ruthless when he wants something, and although that isn't the life America grew up with, the whispers and glances that the wintery nation receives is almost exactly like the ones America gets. It _sucks _to have to depend on the _him _when America has to rant to someone that would understand what he is saying completely and if the rigid posture Russia adopts when he drops by America's place says anything, he doesn't like the American being his confident either. It is weird how ironic the situation is, they go from being at each other's throats to having discussions that only friends do. Not to mention they _still_ can't stand each other.

**Referring to "Inherited": Three of the mentioned teens are American states (OCs), the other two are provinces (OCs as well). "Meghan" is Pennsylvania's human name (I get a Prussia/Germany/Austria feel when I try to picture her). The fight occurs between Quebec and Louisiana on one side and Virginia and British Columbia on the other. Louisiana's state flower is the magnolia.**

_mes chatons-my kittens_

_oui-yes_

_mein Gott-my God_


	2. Chapter 2

Twins

"Abug heei," England frowned at the foreign language coming from his kitchen; it sounded like America, but America only knew English and a smattering of French and Spanish. Goodness knew how he had learned the frog's language, England had definitely never taught his colony any of that. "Nyf naguy?" That would be the other boy, the quiet one... what was his name again? Not important, both boys obviously knew whatever was coming out of the other's mouth because they were having quite a conversation, but England had never heard the language before. Perhaps they had retained some of their native tongues? "Hai." America chirped sweetly, Japanese? England frowned again, how did America learn that? Curiosity got the better of him and he went to ask the two boys what language they were speaking, Canada flushed red and America's eyes got huge; both looked at each other, "Uhh...it was...um...oh! It is-" "It's a North American language." Canada squeaked, his face got even more red. America nodded so quickly, Nantucket whacked his forehead, "Yep, that. We're going outside now England, so enjoy your tea and try not to miss us, okay?" Both scampered out and disappeared leaving England to stare after them suspiciously.

Animals

England comes to visit America in one of the many areas the American lives in and is greeted by a German Shepherd and an unidentifiable dog. The only good thing that comes out of nearly being attacked by two canines is that afterwards, America is too tired to drag England everywhere. England is lucky. France had had his hand slashed open once when he walked in on America and startled a bald eagle. Kimojarou got attacked by a maine coon and had to be rescued by Canada and the Italian brothers were nearly run over by some bison. Prussia was nearly mauled by a mountain lion because he had been too focused on looking for a grizzly bear. It's not a big surprise that the only nations that will go see animals with America now are Canada, Germany and Denmark.

Resemblance

America looks like Scotland. No seriously. If you look past the fact that America's hair is blonde instead of auburn and his eyes are blue instead of green, the resemblance is striking. Same cheekbones, eye structure and mouth-even the way they carried themselves looked similar; England had nearly had a heart attack when he came home to see what looked like two Scotlands smirking at him. On second glance, the nation next to the Scotsman was America and England had gaped at them for a good minute and a half before America had demanded if he had gone senile and forgotten how to close his mouth. That brought on a lot of spluttering and laughing. "It isn't that surprising," Canada had whisper-consoled a shell-shocked England afterwards, "The Ulster Irish, who were of Scottish descent, were a large percentage of the first American settlers." That would explain America's Appalachian accent; England had thought it sounded eerily like the old Scottish one. Canada's next remark threw the Englishman off again, "Al acts like Ireland too at times, but only when he is really drunk. Unfortunately, that doesn't occur very often. It's hilarious to watch." Well, as long as the watcher stayed out of the way of the pipe that America pulls out of nowhere and starts beating random things with.

Movies

America was not scared of horror movies. He produced a good portion of them after all so he was most definitely absolutely not afraid at all of the madman running around killing everyone in the most gruesome way. He was simply protecting the others when the bad guy lunged at the screen. Yeah, that was it; it wasn't like he was scared out of his wits and lost all common sense. His brother watched those movies with him all the time and America had always made sure that no villain from within the television would come out and kill Canada. You know, just in case some law of the universe decided to backfire and allow a picture to become real. No, America did not go blue in the face from terror every time someone shrieked or jumped out from behind a tree. Nope, not at all. He doesn't know what you are talking about. Being armed to the teeth and sleeping in a UFO with Tony didn't have anything to do with movies at all.

Prelude

They should have seen this coming. All of them should have known just what they were doing. Canada's normally passive lavender eyes were gleaming with fury and sadness; across from him, dead blue eyes watched his every move, from the eerie shadows on Canada's pale face to the gleam of silver in his hands. "Al...Alfred. This isn't necessary. They don't mean it." A response. The nation in front of him changes expression ever so slightly, an unbelieving quirk of the lips, "If only I could still believe that." The voice is cold, rasping over itself to reach Canada's ears, "I'm only sorry that you have to see this." The hiss of steel over skin, an arching silver flash, wet warmth on his face that shouldn't be there, the clink of metal hitting the ground. The tears spill for the first time in years, leaving hot trails on his cheeks. Canada slumps to the ground, staring at the ever growing pool of liquid staining his clothes. The others find him hours later in the same position facing a blood splattered white wall, but the boy remains silent no matter how they urge him to talk.

Spells

England should have known that teaching America any extent of magic would be a terrible idea, but he was drunk and tired and America had been so persuasive that he had given in and taught the boy some basic techniques. Trust America to invent some random concoction and use it before running it by England to see if it was safe. Even worse, he had dragged Canada into it as well and the nations were suffering the consequences. "This is a load of BS." America (is it really America? This guy has eyeliner and piercings) drawls lazily a couple of seats down flipping a glaring Germany off with a smirk, the other nation bristles, "Get your feet off the conference table. This isn't your playground, America."

Said nation rolls his eyes, "***** etiquette." his twin (for once he is visible...what was his name again?) agrees, blowing cigarette smoke into the air before putting it out on the table. Two pairs of black combat boots hit the ground, ignoring a livid Germany, the twins make their way towards the door. It slams closed with a flick of the wrist and silence descends in the meeting room. He doesn't mean to have the thoughts, but England is seriously contemplating teaching America more magic if that is the result every time.


End file.
